Sandover - Foundations
by Snowneco
Summary: Jak, Daxter and company get plucked out of their time, and in some cases minds, and placed somewhere different. A place old but young at the same time. Memories, friends, enemies, ghosts of the past, new people and adventures. Characters set between JakII and JakIII. Warnings in the tin.
1. Part One - Amnesia and Concussions

**Sandover – Foundations**

Part One – Amnesia and Concussions

Authors Note: welcome to Sandover - Foundations! This first chapter is an experiment, it's just testing the water, there is a whole complete story behind it and I intend to continue though this chapter may change. Since I'm new here and this is my first fic I'd like to see what I'm in for. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!  
Also: Some people write themselves into the story, and I know it will look and read that I am doing it here, but I'm not and it will be explained later. I don't dislike other stories where it occurs, but it's not my style and will not be in this. Sorry if that's what you were looking for.

Contains: spoilers, mild slash, swearing, insignificant O/C's, very much not by the game plot and not every chapter will have these warnings. Just letting you know now – that's what you're in for, you have been warned.

Disclaimer: and all that jazz…

**Chapter One**  
Dreadlocks, Tattoos and Memory Loss

The ground was gritty but soft and sort of moved around him, like a water bed shifts to shape. It took a bit of wriggling, but eventually his nooks and clefts – which he had many – fit perfectly, surrounded by slowly warming sand.

_Was that salt in the air?_ He was sure he could taste it, and smell it, and feel the slight itch on his skin where it had dried in the sunlight. Oh, and the bright and warmth of it all. The man was sure it was the sun, a burning glow of red behind his eyelids that sort of warmed and invigorated. He hadn't felt this good since, well, ever.

If only those bloody birds would shut up…

He blinked the grit away from his eyes and stared into the fragmented and blurry ground, after all, he couldn't lie here all day. There was something important, so very important that had to be done. And _he_ was important. Perhaps the only one that could do it.

The man let out a hefty sigh into the semi-drunkenness of waking. Waiting and waiting for the birds and the surf and the sand to disappear, for himself to be placed back somewhere he was meant to be. This, after all, had to be a dream. Nothing had ever been this good but he found himself wondering why? There was no way he was here, there was so much colour and life and everything felt healthy and young.

His palms crunched with white sand as he flexed his fingers, trying to get blood back into them sooner rather than later. He closed his eyes again to the smell and sand, waiting for it all to dissapear and wake into the real world. Though when he opened them again, he was still here, somewhere he obviously wasn't meant to be. Where no-one was meant to be, this was a dream.

The man wonkily stood up and leaned to a nearby rock face that stretched up just over eyelevel and he sighed, breathing the crystal clean air and soft breeze that came with the taste of mint and grass and something else. Energy? Life? Of course, green eco.

But the wild stuff he knew as a child, not the processed - council approved stuff.

_The council._

What is the council? Why do they matter? He couldn't remember.

The man drove his fingers through his hair and stopped, long thick knots caught his attempt and he withdrew.

"Are you alright down there?" A woman's voice called from just over the rock face.

He wasn't entirely sure, but he decidedly went with yes. "Yeah, of course. I'm just a bit lost." He paused and patted his strange, damp clothes, "I guess."

A small bird perched itself on the cliff and squawked. He was taken aback for a moment before another face, this time with short yellow and brown hair and big grey eyes peered down. "What do you mean lost? How can anyone possibly get lost in such a small village?"

He rubbed his temple slowly in confusion, he'd always done that, he was sure but it was an action he knew he should really cut out. Something that annoyed his friends. "I don't know. I'm not from around here."

She smiled and outstretched a hand, "I picked that up straightaway. You tattoo's told me you were a foreigner."

"My what?" The young lady pulled him up onto the ledge and he sat for a moment, cross legged and baffled in the crisp, bright green grass.

"Never mind, I'm Maybel Onin." She shook his hand with a calculating expression. "But people just call me May, or That Bird Lady."

The man nodded and smiled, "I'm.. Uh." He couldn't for the life of him remember.

"It's okay, introductions later! Let's get you some dry clothes and I bet you're hungry." The woman, no older than thirty-five lead him to a house that sort of explained the 'That Bird Lady' thing. There were birds in cages and perched on the roof and literally _– everywhere_.

"Strip them." She gestured to what he was wearing and began rummaging through the draws, throwing clothes about in a whirlwind of fabric. "Perfect. This was my partners, but I'm sure it would fit you. Also there is a bucket of water around the side you can rinse the salt water off those with."

The man looked at the red tunic and old looking black armour on offer and felt an odd hatred towards it, though it would have been completely rude to decline.

May placed the clothes across his arms and left the house, bustling about with something that was making the birds go crazy.

He had to admit, these clothes didn't feel entirely natural compared to the tight leather and metal and armour he was wearing before, but he imagined he'd fit in a lot better now he wasn't wearing gun's on his thighs. He rummaged through the pockets of his old clothes before he dropped them in the water bucket and plunged them around a bit.

"How long since you've eaten?" May asked from the front of the house.

"I'm not sure." He replied finding a wallet. _Bingo!_

She squawked and poked her head around, ready to start accusing but found herself distracted. "Oh, very fetching. Crimson suits you." She shook her head once to clarify, pointing a thin finger sternly. "If you can't remember the last time you ate, it must have been ages ago. I've got sandwiches ready, no if-buts-or-maybe's. You need to eat."

He gave a quick smile and left the old clothes to soak, admittedly he did look rather nice in these after all.

The small table out the front made out of a birdcage was adorned with two plates, one with two sandwiches and the other with just one, but half eaten and half in May's hand. He sat on a crate next to the wall and rested his temple on his fingertips, rubbing small circles.

"You really do that a lot." May smiled, "I bet it gets your friends get mad."

He gave a quick laugh and picked up one of his two sandwiches, hearing his stomach protest as it realised just how hungry it was. Grumbling like it was trying to digest a clump of shrapnel rather then bread.

And great precursors, was that the best bread he'd ever eaten? Now it was definitely a dream. He moaned and leaned back against the wall. "This is so good, what's in it?"

"Uh, yakkow steak from the farmer," she pointed just down by where he woke up and yep, those were yakkows – maybe? "And mint with water-grown salad." She smiled, "also my home-made bread."

"That's possibly the best part of it all." He couldn't help but smile again and her cheeks went rosy.

"And people wonder why the birds love me so much." May giggled and kicked her feet out onto the grass, "so what is your name, Tattooed Wonder?"

That's a fine question. Who was he exactly? And why does she insist he has tattoos? He'd not recalled ever getting one, certainly not like he wanted one. His wallet would know, that's where people keep their identification, isn't it? He thumbed out a thin card and looked down at it, the picture was him, with strange grey markings on his face that are definitely ink and dressed in a big red metal suit.

He knew this, and he knew he should remember who he was but it really was strange.

_"I'm Torn, Torn Lach of the Krimson guard." _


	2. Not in Spargus Anymore

**Chapter Two**  
Not in Spargus anymore

Sig rubbed his head where he was sure his scalp was smuggling a very painful egg. One moment he was breathing in the hot, dry air of the desert wasteland – and the next, he was choking on humidity and fog with some extreme pain in his neck and skull.

The dune hopper had rolled while defending off the marauders and he'd been thrown out the side, right into a clutter of rocks. Ever since Damas had disappeared south to some summons, he'd been placed in charge of defending the wasteland city and expected to give no lenience to intruders.

What would he say when he gets back after finding out he'd somehow – perhaps magically or precursor-_ly_ (he was certain that wasn't a word but it really was appropriate) – disappeared on the job?

He lifted his hand from his scalp and took in his surroundings. There was grass, a lot of grass. And the sound of water, fresh crystal water that didn't go gluggy or frothy. Trees and vines and rope bridges. He could smell something too, an itch and tingle in his nostrils, the taste of cold and heat and energy that felt ready to break away. He was no channeller, but that was yellow eco – now visible that wouldn't have been before until he'd noticed. Stray particles caught in the air like prickles floating about carelessly.

Sig sneezed, realising he'd probably thought about it too hard.

Maybe there was a land mark around here somewhere? The Wastelander picked himself off the ground and grunted at the amount of desert sand that blew out from his armour. This was all very weird, and someone was going to get their neck wrung. Deity or human alike, no-one had the authority to pluck him from duty and drop him in some weird-o jungle that – by his mental compass – didn't exist. The only place he could be was Haven Forest, but where were the familiar trees and the city wall and the bottomless canyon?

The man turned on the spot to be confronted by the largest precursor artefact he'd ever seen. It was a fortress or rather a palace that towered over him. The touch of naturally warm, golden precursor metal with its orange and rose light. He'd never seen so much in one place that wasn't chipped or scratched, this new and young metal was flawless and gleamed without one scratch.

Though with the amount of lurkers around, he'd guessed there should have been heaps. Those simple primitive brutes loved shiny things, as Bruter had (many times) told him, possibly forgetting he'd ever done it before.

_Hey, lurkers. _

Sig stepped in their direction, perhaps these creatures, no matter how barbaric and unevolved, would help him locate himself.

"Hey, hey?" Sig called out and hushed, realising just how quiet it was before his booming voice split the silence. Something crackled in the scrub beside him and he stepped away. _Shit, where's the peacemaker?_

The lurker plopped to its backside and scratched its ear, tongue lolling out sideways and eyes rolling to the back of its head. Sig took a few too many gaudy steps closer and its hackles peaked, looking around for the offending noise. "Hey, chilli pepper. I'm not from around here, so er, where am I?"

No sooner had he finished his sentence but the animal attacked. He'd heard about lurkers attacking people before, they were still animals, but only if they had been mistreated or abused. This one, though, had instinct in its eyes where intelligence lacked and brandished its sharp claws.

Sig was a lot of things, but nimble and agile weren't among them. So scurrying up a couple of long columns to high ground where the animal barked and scratched at his feet was a mission. Let alone with armour and maybe a concussion and carrying no real weapons. Still, he was not a person to take anything too lightly.

A good Wastelander can fend off a metal head with a gun or a stick or any weapons in reach. But a great Wastelander doesn't need weapons, just what he wearing and an odd sense of fashion.

Sig ripped his shoulder pad off and rammed one metal head horn into the lurkers temple with enough force to down a yakkow without even a blink. The animal fell to its side in crumpled very still heap and Sig was able to make an easier effort of the ascent.

"What the hell was that?" He asked, staring down at the breathless creature. After scraping the red liquid off the horn with a patch of grass he stabbed it into the nearby ground and looked about himself, sighing heavily. No civilisation, no shelter, but at least there was food.

Taking a flint from his breast pocket he struck up a fire and by the time the sun started to die, he'd thatched up a small shelter against the temple (seeing as those freaking doors weren't budging) and prepared himself some tough old lurker steak with a campfire.

Sig sighed, realising it wasn't all bad. The shelter was working, the fire was stoked up and his free toes wiggled in the heat. Besides, metal head tastes worse than lurker.

The precursors better have some damn good explanation for this.

Seem had told him a story before about the deities of their world taking heroes and placing them where needed, especially in the instances where there was dark eco present. The precursors apparently changed in its contact and exposure and they had to use other methods to contain it. Mar was one of those people. Sent to the other side of the world, universe of even back or forward in time.

Though when she told him this she was wrist deep in Sig's blood after a particularly nasty encounter with a wasteland metal head, and might have just been nervously rambling. Come to think of it, he should probably get around to fixing up the shattered entrance to her temple. If he ever got back, that is.

Anyhow, if Seem believed in them, he guessed he could believe her.

"I'll just wait here then, cherries."

At least until further notice.


	3. Rocky Landing

**Chapter Three**  
Rocky Landing

_"That's helluva nasty scratch you got there, kiddo."_

Keira could feel it, right across the side of her forehead and it was deep. She remembered working on the broken zoomer in the workshop, straddling one of the hulls to get better access to the engine. The zoomer's levitation stabilizer jet had failed and the ground had rushed up at her, or she had fallen to the ground. Either way it greeted her face far too intimately, and if going by the cosmic bright flash and display of brilliant hues behind her lids – shed been knocked clean out.

The woman's voice again, _"hello? Wakey, wakey, Captain Comatose." _Mysterious cold fingers touched her forehead, instantly shooting a throbbing pain behind her eyes. The colours dancing and blinking flippantly. _"You okay?"_

Keira nodded delicately and patted about herself, she was lying in something soft. A bed maybe? And warm. The crackle of electricity played a dull tune in between the surging drone of a warp pad. The cold hand disappeared and with a slit of blurry vision she could only just make out a blue haired, blue eyed, lady.

And she was, in fact, lying in a bed. As impossible as that might be.

Keira licked her dry lips and cringed, trying to sit up. The tang of salt water and weathered stone left a dull hint on her tongue, but not dirty salt water, pristine and fresh and the stone was pure and clean. Beach sand? Where in Haven City still had clean water and beach sand?

"Um, yeah, I just fell off a zoomer trying to- oh never mind." Her hand was taken up by another, pulling her strongly to sit up.

"That's impossible."

Keira sneered, "yeah, I know I'm not the most gymnastically efficient person ever. No need to be mean."

"What's your name stranger?"

"I'm Keira."

She paused for a moment as if in thought, "what a lovely name! A bit weird though." She chirped, "I'm Reef. Please excuse the pun, my father is very cruel."

"What pun?"

There was a short pause and something heavy sank the bed on the right hand side. "Don't worry. I can tell you aren't from around here. Now if you like I can try and patch up that scratch on your head, it looks nasty. If daddy hasn't blown up my first aid kit or lost it somewhere."

Keira grimaced as she blinked away the remaining painful blur and looked into two big blue eyes. They watched at an uncomfortably close distance and Keira shuffled. No-one in Haven City gets this close.

_Hold on a minute. What the…?_

Keira looked over the woman's shoulder for a better outlook from the wooden window frame. _It couldn't be_. But it was, all rocks and reef, ocean and salty ground that was as infertile as steel. _"Rock Village!?"_

Then gratefully felt a black haze swallow her up from toes to her brain and saw nothing.

Reef shook her head and watched the girl land roughly back onto the bed with a 'pluff' of pillows. She folded her arms across her stomach and held her overall bands, sliding down and padding her way barefoot across the floor. Perhaps father knew who she was and maybe what was wrong with her, she obviously needed serious anxiety help. The poor girl was pretty bizarre...

She grinned. They were going to get along great!

* * *

May was a lovely young lady. Though Torn had to admit, she did too much. In two days, she had not sat down once unless she'd nearly been passing out with exhaustion.

Torn was trying his best to help and tidy around the house, however he could tell cleaning wasn't one of his superior skills. He thought was doing a great job – May didn't agree with his methods. Stabbing paper work with knives to stop them from blowing around wasn't okay. The more he swept the more dirt seemed to appear and he was told he'd just been pushing the muck around. And apparently clothes aren't meant to be scrunched and stuffed in any drawer he could find – especially the ones with bird seed in them because they had to be washed again.

Just like she had said: _"Just because you can't see the mess, doesn't mean the problem goes away, Torn. Sit down, I've got this."_

Yeah, it wasn't one of his talents. Although, those guns that had dried out on the cupboard, he really knew how to use. May had returned from the farmers and he'd been flicking them around his fingers as if he'd done this a million times before. Then she promptly ducked – just in case.

Torn sighed and plopped down on his bed she had set up on the floor, he was bored, and couldn't get rid of this nag in his head. An ache inducing thing, it was. Maybe a bit of fresh air would do him good; he would go down to the beach, or maybe visit the villagers and introduce himself?

May sighed and craned her head out the window, placing down a rag she had been polishing the wood on her cages with. Torn could tell her legs were about to give way, two seconds before he heard something biological and squishy hitting floor boards.

"Are you okay?" He was quick to her side and helping her up.

"Yes, yes. I'm okay. Just stumbled over that damn step." She chuckled and saw crimson liquid gradually seeping from her knee, she dabbed it with a tissue, "after living here thirty two years, you'd think I'd remember it's there."

Torn saw she hadn't really been near the step, she'd just run herself too hard. He gave her a reassuring smile and took the now scattered foods off the floor. "I think you need a break."

"I can't afford a break. Summer's on its way and once this place heats up, nothing but the palms and grass grows." She tilted her head up to the rocky stairs beside her house. "And the blistering wind that comes out of fire canyon is almost scorching."

As if on cue Torn realised just how hot the breeze is, "what needs doing?"

And just as usual she patted him down to the mattress again, "nothing at all from you. You're my guest and should be treated as such."

Torn held up a protest with a growl, "no if-but-or-maybe's. What needs doing?"

May seemed to let the thought tick over her mind, "maybe I could rest for just five."

"Thank you, what would you like me to do?"

"Have you ever been into the jungle? I know they all say it's forbidden because of the danger, but it's not if you know the right way to do things."

The man shook his head, he'd been nowhere really.

She smiled, "well then I'll come with you." Before he could object, she shushed loudly. "I promise I'll let you do all the work, the fresh air would do me good."

Torn sniffed as he headed out the door; the air was already fresh here, how much better could it get in a jungle? A pang of metallic grimy air, the colour of grey walls and stained floors struck his memory and he wondered what on earth (or elsewhere) it was from.

"Besides," she nudged his hip with her own and picked up a yellow basket lined with feathers, "you'd look ridiculous carrying this around."

A genuine smile pulled at his cheeks and the skin on his face that wasn't grey turned a charming shade of pink. It felt strange to show the better emotions and it sure as hell didn't fit his usual MO. Even May looked at him as if the very place stated had frozen over, sending his stomach into little funny knots. Torn was unsure why but he felt like the sort of person who didn't feel good that often.

For the life of him, he didn't know why.

~oOo~

The jungle air was definitely better than the village stuff, though it was peculiar that the atmosphere changed so much between only a kilometre. The habitation sounded just as he'd imagined a place untouched by humans would sound. Water crackled some metres below and trees rustled, birds sung loudly and Torn glowered at their wails and squawks. Okay so that, he didn't enjoy…

"You're not an animal person are you, Torn?" May picked a flower as she walked, pulling the petals off one by one.

Torn straightened and steeled his face, "what gave that away?"

The only response was a cluck of laughter and she threw her yellow and brown head back.

The whole place practically sparkled yellow and green in little masses of what looked like lantern beetles from a distance, but on closer inspection they were like jagged bubbles of light; flaring from a white core where it got its yellow colour. The green was different, stable, and rounder and didn't burst with energy, almost like green bubbles rolling about on a breeze.

"Can't you smell that yellow eco in the air?" Maybel took a lungful and slowly let slip through her teeth, stepping off the wood onto the grass, "it smells dry and brittle. My father used to tell me it smells like crunchy leaves. What do you think?"

This woman sure liked to talk, but Torn couldn't bring himself to say he was completely comfortable walking in silence, her voice was charming like wind chimes in the rain. His however, sounded like he'd been a heavy smoker since birth.

"Mh." His murmur was unspecific, "what's with you people and death traps?" Torn looked back over the death-wish of a bridge they had just crossed, wondering if the people around here had dangerous tenancies or just hated visitors. He crossed it without a worry, but found himself nearly running circles around his friend, making sure she wouldn't fall down into the river below.

"It's just old." May said, placing the basket on her hip. "You get used to it, we are a bit backwards with technology here. But we make do."

Torn noticed, "yeah, I got that."

"And you're a guard, I got that."

"Hm?"

"Guarding me from a bridge," May laughed, "that mind you, I have crossed daily since before I can remember."

Suddenly Torn felt a bit ridiculous and decided against replying.

The rocky path they'd been following lead them all the way around the jungle to the edge of a chasm. On the other side, Torn could see a bush of bright red berries that, if he was alone out here, he would avoid eating. Anything that bright had to be poisonous.

"That's them there, they always grow be in the deepest part of the jungle." May said, "probably from all the lurkers, you would think the manure would be bad for the plants but it's not."

_The deepest part of the Forbidden Jungle, huh?_ This place was a walk in the park, literally. Torn shrugged and made his way behind May to the bushes.

"Have you ever tried these before?" She held her palm out and offered a cluster of the berries.

"What are they?"

She giggled like a child and placed a few in the basket, the rest in the inside of her cheeks until she was unparalleled to a balloon. "Dung Berries." She mumbled out.

Torn grimaced, "I'm not eating anything to do with dung. That's disgusting."

"It's just their name, idiot. I have no idea what they're really called. I make jam, wine, put them in muffins. And the best part is, if you put the word dung in front of all these things, you don't even have to share because no-one in their right mind would eat dung jam." She watched him eye them off, "gah, you're such a chicken."

The guard was more than happy to help pick the fruit, but he refused frank and simple to try one. It's not that he had a weak stomach, but she was correct, no-one in their _right_ mind would eat anything that had the word dung in it. Except the Sandover villagers, they apparently knew her secret and took her wine for precursor orbs and assorted goods.

The two approached the return bridge that squeaked loudly as May's foot roughly landed on a plank. The wood cracked loudly but she didn't seem to notice. Torn instinctively jumped forward with the stamina, economy and reflexes of a soldier, not daring to touch her but hands hovering a foot to her either side.

"Look Bucko, if you're going to do this every time we cross a bridge I might have to give you a sedative. Cut it out." She pointed a finger playfully but the subtext was clear.

Torn straightened though kept a subtle hawklike vision from the corner of his eye. Something wasn't right, and it wasn't the death trap they were walking over. It had supported their weight before, odds say it would do it again. Something else was wrong here. Torn could feel it like an ache in the small of his back… He was ready, for anything. A growl. A snap. A flash of claws. What he wasn't expecting – and disregarded as nothing – was the silence.

May, however, had an immediate reaction to the lack of sound. She felt the silence on her chest like a crushing weight, pressing her heart to her ribcage.

_"Maybel, you can always trust the birds," Gail Onin looked down to her daughter, placing a handful of berries into the aged woven basket, "they are like watchmen. Your grandmother used to tell me that sounds signal safe. Because completely off instinct, they go very discreet in the presence of danger. May, are you listening?" She held the blonde girl's chin and fizzy grey-yellow eyes smiled up, "this is important my dear girl. You must remember: when the birds go quiet-" _

May turned sharply, grabbing a fistful of Torn's collar and yanked hard towards the village, "_run!_"


	4. The Little Guy

**Chapter Four  
**The Little Guy

"Please baby, no." Sig brushed a hand through his short dark hair. Cursing his throbbing toe and the lurid metallic trill of the orange precursor doors. He hadn't meant to lose his temper; it was rare to begin with- if ever, but this one occurrence had ended with two wrecked objects present instead of the one. A helmet lay in pieces on the stairs; destroyed by his hand, or rather foot seeing as he'd put his horned boot through it. And hanging on a high precursor pillar was a long pole, a skull-gem garbed instrument dangling in the breeze, barely holding on by a few wires.

Sig bit his tongue at the sight of his peacemaker, snapped clean in half, assured that the only things escaping these lips were curses or blasphemes. Knowing Seem and her acolytes would lecture without mercy for either, they stayed in a fixed stony sneer as he calmly wiped is brow.

Calm was only skin deep however, as the doors refused to budge at the initial force of a stubborn wastelander.

What he had been expecting- as he crossed the relic bridge that crackled with steady blue eco- was the door to remain barred, and he'd resort to shouting abuse at it, followed up by a bit of failing brute strength, and then he'd finally wise up and build a damn ladder. Being one step previous to the ladder when he'd kicked his helmet, Sig took a stride forward to collect its wreckages.

What he wasn't expecting, however, were the circular door's parts to shift back on their own accord with a grating screech. They pleated into each other, not to their full extent, as they'd shaken to a dead stop and revealed in the jagged opening… _"Daxter?"_

The orange creature blinked, just once, looking through the door from the shadows with equal surprise. He was hunched in a disturbing pose, like a kangarat curling over to die on its feet. Only scarier. Because Daxter was panting, his joints were wobbling and eyes converging back and forth in the space between their dark depths and Sig. Fixed with a calculating expression.

"Whoa. You don't look so hot, chilli pepper." Sig made the small room even smaller as he fell through the tiny opening with an unreasonable extent of struggle. He recoiled and took a longer glance as the creature padded back a few steps.

_Actually, he doesn't look so good at all._ Daxter was giving off some seriously bad vibes; gloves and goggles were absent, his paws were soiled with some dark liquid that could have been blood in this light, and heaven help the man who caused that laceration across his side – if Jak ever found out, that is. All of it could have been Daxter, and Sig extended his free shoulder pad – hoping to the precursors it wasn't.

Daxter placed his front paws to the ground and gawked up into Sig, who almost felt the tingle of its unsteady, searching gaze. "I can't-" It breathed quickly through its gritted incisors, "I can't be here. We need to leave now."

Sig agreed completely, but where they would go, he had no idea. The wastelander had spent the morning thumbing his distress beacon. Though he imagined size of Damas' head would grow dangerously when he had to collect his finest warrior from such a sterile and perfect environment. He'd thought again and placed it in his pocket. Only at the sight of this little guy all cut up made him retake it and urgently click the button. Sig would deal with the 'you called me to save a rat' deal later. "Can't be where? Look, it don't matter, you just sit tight 'cause there's someone on their way."

The ottsel nearly curled over at his voice and the shrill reverberation of metal shoes on steel floor. Its eyes rolling back and feet stumbling, eventually hitting the ground with a bony 'thunk'. Daxter groaned and outstretched his claws into the skin around the wound as if trying to stop himself from splitting down the middle. "The-" He turned his palm up and showed the dark liquid on his paws, identical to the inky fluid seeping out, mottled with blood, both purple and crimson. "The eco – it's dead. The regulator is about to discharge. You have to go now, Sig."

"Dead eco? But there's no such-" Eco could be consumed, dissolved, discharged, but it couldn't die. Could it?

Out of all the things to hear in that sentence, the dumb human had to just pick out that? There wasn't any time to explain, not with the R. valve going a-wall and all. Daxter got to his elbow. It felt like a knife was trying to dig out one of his ribs; darkness and violet light burning around the wound. Brilliant power and energy. But to the point where it hurt. A drug, and he began to understand just why _they_ did it. "No," he hissed. He'd die before he became one of _them._

Sig sniffed loudly as he turned and snarled, a scent wafting over of venom and rust, burnt flesh and stagnant eco. Suddenly, bubbling in the seams of the walls and polluting the blue crackling particles around them was a liquid darker than the inside of a metal-head, smelling just as rank. It shone, veined with yellow and pink, in some places white and surprisingly blue. But over all it was as thick and inky as broiling tar.

Caught between high-tailing it out of there and fetching his peacemaker, the urge for survival kicked Sig in the pants. "Sorry, fella. Don't mean to be blunt."

With a big gloved hand he pulled Daxter from the ground and he squawked in pain, throwing him bodily over his wrist and turned to the exit. The doors had nearly creaked shut and the man began looking around, scouring the tall walls for another exit. _Should have gone with the ladder after all… _A weak groan came from below as the creature raised its head weakly, its fingers placed to the door. The metal segments responsively folded away as Dax grunted and sank into unconsciousness. A chilling amount of blood and '_dead' _eco leaked over Sig's arm.

"Ah, shit."

~oOo~

May coughed. Torn looked at her from the corner of his eye, he was apparently good at that. He didn't know where it came from either. Being sneaky and observing things felt trained into him, hardwired into his brain like a bad habit. But even habits had to come from somewhere, right?

She coughed again, this time rolling onto her back and glaring across to him. Lividly. Almost turning his skin to stone.

"What?" Torn demanded. He hadn't done anything wrong. She was the one who decided, upon their exit of the jungle, that stairs were a good place to trip and they had both hit the sand. Skidding what could very well have been a record distance. He was just the one that had to suddenly become acrobatically remarkable and avoid her death throws.

May was sure a few more seconds and her face would have cracked. She laughed, "nothing. Just two people lying in the sand gasping for breath could look a bit suspicious. Especially if no-one knows the back story."

"Back-story? Oh, sorry, I was just under the impression that you _enjoy_ giving people heart attacks. Why were we even running?"

"The birds." She replied as if that was adequate; raising herself to hands and knees, brushing sand away from her face. Suddenly quiet and stunned by the sand as if it had begun flashing colourful. "Torn- where's my basket?"

It had disappeared in amongst their jumble of arms and legs to who knows where. And May wasn't going in for another one, the villagers would have to wait one more week. They would understand, the birds on the other hand. They were tougher to reason with…

Torn felt the basket in his palm. He wasn't exhausted, not as much as May, anyhow. He had actually surprised himself with how fit he was, and that raised further questions as to why. The only thing that blunted his amazement for fitness, was the fact that he'd caught the basket in mid-air. A few berries escaped and beach sand had snow-capped a few but majority were safe, and anyway, tripping over a clumsy May's floundering kind of made fault unavoidable.

"Yeah, okay you shifty little jerk." May smiled at Torn's silent gesture and took the basket back, "thank you, though. I mean it, there's no way I'm going back in there."

Torn got to his feet and monkey gripped her hand, pulling her up too. "I feel like I'm missing something."

"When the birds go quiet you have to get out, and quick. It's their instinct. No-one wants to be seen when something dangerous is around, do you?"

Torn was furious at his survival instincts. "I see." … _Crazy Bird Lady… Right._

"It's just something that has been passed down through my family from generation to generation. Lots of things have." She smiled, "information, wisdom. All the free stuff, it made birthdays a blast."

"Where are your family?" Torn questioned.

May's chin dipped in thought, "same thing that happens to everything. They migrated."

"Where?"

"North." North was over the cliff, but Torn understood when she looked up to the sky instead. He decided not to ask any more about that, but held her shoulder firmly with a warm smile. And a believable one too.

"So what sort of dangerous things are in the jungle?"

May rested the edge of the basket on her stomach and touched her cheek to his hand smoothly. It was a long time ago, and she was really okay talking about it. But his concern was a nice gesture. "Urm, lurkers, snakes, recently there's been eels - the fisherman says they're poisonous, but I think they just give off a dark eco sort of infected look."

She looked around as Torn's ears curved back, their tips nearly touching behind his head. There were no birds around this time, but she had him, and he could hear something. A rumble. A stampede? Something heavy coming their way.

His eyes caught hers, "does that sound like a lurker to you?"

A loud voice boomed from above. A flash of grey and a gust of sand. "Whoa!" Something big and dark leaped off the cliff above, just to their front where it rolled for a way and stopped.

May squinted, unbelievingly. A dark skinned man garbed in strange creature's body parts turned to her with one red glowing eye, the other unwavering and wide. The unsettling gaze only outmatched by the skulls he wore and their eerie stares, it felt natural to be frightened, especially that glowing yellow orb. Lambent with technology that was far from precursor. It sent a shiver through her as if an ice block slipped down her spine.

A small orange creature sagged across the man's arm. It could have been a muse, like that funny artist kid had but it was all wrong. She gasped watching a weak pulse push blood though the big man's glove. It breathed fast from its nose and through clenched teeth. Both the colours associated with everything menacing trailed from its side down into its guardians clothing, staining cerise and lilac.

May didn't know who was bleeding, but there was a lot. Far too much to be just the small creature. And if the situation didn't calm soon she was sure there would be more shed, as Torn leapt into action, removing his knife from the sheath on his back and placed it to the stranger's throat.

Sig didn't see these people, and he meant them no harm. But he had to get Dax to help as of a few minutes ago. And he hated being late. Lucky for him, the ordeal only took roughly three long seconds.

One: he felt a weight on his chest and watched and arc knife press down on his throat.

Two: a voice that sounded like it was powered with broken zoomer parts set on fire warned him away from retaliating.

And three: He looked up into the inked face, contorted with a grimace and staring back just as sternly. What felt like – in another circumstance – could have been a smile pulled at his top lip. Only on one side, though, and he shouted. "Torn, not you too?"

* * *

_Sorry, guys. I know it's been a while since I've updated, but they will be gradually be getting regular and often from now again. Being my picky little self that is… _

_Also, I've been helping out a dear friend of mine Pr-anx with a fic called After Friendship. Check it out, it has me on the edge of my seat every chapter even though I know what's going to happen. I'm only there for when she had writers block and to give motivational negotiations. Eg: Write or no TV for a week!_

_That crazy dust-bunny has some seriously good ideas!_

_Thank you all for being fantastic and reading, and you wonderful human beings who reviewed - paintingwithtoes, Snowydusk, Duchess of Dorks, DarkEcoFreak, Kitsune Foxfire. It keeps me out of trouble :)_


	5. Eco Burns and Monsters

**Chapter Five  
**Eco Burns and Monsters

Sig's fingers curled up mechanically, a hot ache blossoming in his forearm where the soiled bandages protected an eco-burn. He couldn't decide whether he was uncomfortable because of the searing glare from an amnesiac Torn; the fact there was a village here this whole time; or the pitiable whimpers from the ottsel. His mind settled the dispute by reminding him that he was never actually intimidated by people, nor being lost, but instead it was Daxter. And his stare like death and needles.

Something didn't feel right under the gaze of the ottsel. It seemed miserable, slumped over the corner of the table as a thread and barb cleaved through its fur. Those frigid eyes felt wrong, completely motionless, just like the rest of its small body. If its fangs hadn't bared once in a while with pain, Sig would have sworn the thing was dead.

"Sorry, sorry." Maybel had overcome her fear of the small animal and the man with the unusual attire. It was in her nature to help things, and this little creature, who knows what it was, had to be helped. More than helped, practically saved.

Sig silently thanked her, watching intently from the box he was rested against. He was banned here, unable to move and set under the observation of an ex-KG. It was getting old, very quickly. He rubbed his bare eyebrows.

This would have been a long day watching the little charge be sewn up. Though relief from the tension was a comfort as Maybel patted down the ottsel's fur, stroking his back a few times and the little creature spread out. Daxter's fingers curled a bit and he raised himself to an elbow, inspecting the bald, dark purple and burned skin. He beheld upwards his thanks and then looked to Sig who was stepping in his direction. Not without an shuffle from Torn.

"How ya feelin', cherry?"

Daxter sadly beamed up but remained silent, almost embarrassed. Daxter was _never_ embarrassed, and seldom quiet unless eating. And even then he gave it his best shot to still talk. Which made the wastelander doubt this creature even further.

Torn sheathed his blade and stood up straight from the doorway, "It's an animal, it can't speak."

Daxter exchanged a knowing glance with Sig and proceeded to do what Torn would have sworn to be a wink. Or maybe a tired flutter of the eyelids. Either way it made him uneasy.

May sat down beside the creature as it breathing steadied, slow and even, every now and again it would cringe or wince with unnerving consciousness. Looking towards the wound with disappointment, or perhaps anguish. Dread, as if it were dying.

It was just a scratch and an eco-burn, dark eco was always the worst to be tainted by. But the creature – the big man named 'Cherry' – would heal, and be fine. She was sure, having seen a lot worse in her time.

"Cherry will be fine." She dragged her hands through a cloth, the small amount of blood coming of her hands. "So, who are you?"

"I'm from outa town." Sig looked to Daxter who nodded once, "I'm Sig, and this here is Daxter." The animal cringed at the name.

Torn stood, "So how do you know me, Monocle?"

"We come from the same place, Haven, you know? Grey walls, prison, the Barron, Krimson guards?"

If Torn hadn't heard that last bit, it wouldn't have been believable. Though, scarily he did remember a lot of grey, and maybe a prison. He wasn't quite sure. It was far more familiar than he would have liked, in any case. "Why would I believe anything you have to say? I don't like you."

Maybel paused and took a step towards the guard, "No, this is good. You lost your memory, if this guy knows then maybe he can help." The tattooed man looked to May as she spoke, "but I know here there is no such place with grey walls and uh, a prison? Unless Gol's citadel counts?"

"Hey listen, Dreads, I dunno what your problem is." He shook his head and sliced the air with his hand, "All I know, is I woke up here after falling out of my car. Full stop. Now you chilli Pepper's can help us get home – or you can get in my way."

May stood between Torn and this 'Sig', hands holding them apart. Silently hoping they had boundaries when it came to hurting women who dived in-between their arguments. She was ready to speak when a slamming noise erupted outside and she found herself, to her own spite, wondering _what else?_

A man appeared in the door, well, Sig wouldn't have called it appeared. More like gripped his son's small hand and burst into the room. His long brunette hair swung at his shoulders freely, except his fringe stuck to his sweaty forehead. Sig guessed not many people around here wore braids like in Haven.

The man's face, if not terrified, would have been handsome. Thick chin, tall, built like a wastelander and if anything, god-like. Also familiar, too familiar, with a hint of – was it hatred towards the newcomer?

"Mayor Praxis, what's wrong?" Maybel stood away from the bed, taking very few steps towards the disgruntled man and his son.

Sig sneered, _Praxis? Just like the Barron, but how?_

"You need to see this, this animal, just please, come." Praxis bustled back and forth, dragging his blue haired son by the hand until May took the boy into her outstretched arms. "I tried to help and it just. I don't even-."

May caught a glimpse of the ottsel as it sat up, almost ready to speak, "What is it?"

"An animal. A person, I don't know. It's just a- a monster." Praxis wiped down his face. He paused, realizing that the animal had spoken.

All eyes in the room were at Daxter now and he shied down into his fur, though turning to Sig seemed to restore his nerve. "You need to go, Wastelander, not Maybel."

"Why?" Sig was trying to place the ottsel voice to memory, though it was deeper, different. Wrong.

"H- How does it know who I am?" Maybel stuttered, taking a step in, still holding the child to her chest. The terrified father joining her.

Sig grimaced, "Torn. You're coming with me, I have a feeling we've seen this thing before." He held the sceptical Torn's shoulder with a momentary truce and turned him, taking one last glance back as Daxter winced. His large yellow eyes being slowly stained with black. _Yellow?_ _Not foamy blue, but serious amber eyes. _

Whatever this ottsel was, it wasn't Daxter.

* * *

_So, new chappy! A cookie goes to anyone who knows what is going on here._

_Thank you to you lovely reviewers, seriously. I'm flattered that you chip into your own time for a bit of encouragement. It does mean a lot. There needs to be more of you in the world 3_

_As before, I have been helping out with Pr-anx's After Friendship and she has been my muse for this when I have inspiration block. So big thank you to her, if not I would have gone into lazy holiday mode. Then nothing would get done. _

_BUT! Like I said, I have pre-written a few chapters, they just need some editing and they're ready to go up. The plot has changed from the original SF, so please be patient… _

_And Merry Christmas from Australia – or, you know? Whatever you're into, make it a good time!_


	6. Jak in a Box

**Chapter Six  
**Jak in a Box

The boy found himself in a lightless hollow against a warm timber wall. Unable to tell himself or anyone who may be concerned how he got here. All he could recall was a familiar bright light, before waking up in a slick of crushed grass by the beach. He'd wondered why _they_ had done this to him again and getting mad. Then he'd been swallowed by nonentity, the black and unconsciousness of nothing.

Steady hands reached about in the darkness, feeling the cool floor, finding a warm bared window and a doorframe. The room was small and familiar, to what, he hadn't a clue.

All he could recall was a contagiously dim place, confined agony, a prison; but nothing like that at all. It was a worse hell. One he could only find in a memory where he stood at the brink of a chasm, teetering, scared… angry. The two emotions riled the boy just by their very thought, he clenched the sweat from his fists. A snap of purple light in the darkness and momentary break of consciousness. The room caught in a startling violet glow for barely a second.

Why could he not tell the feelings apart anymore?

"_Jak_." The voice was smooth, firm, _powerful._ Burned into his mind.

There were other voices too, real and just outside the door, hushed to a volume they assumed would be quiet. But he was adapted to the dark, and the silence. The person who was calling for this 'Jak' character, he wasn't like these new voices. He could feel the vibrations from the people outside to wooden door. The other voice was empty, almost not noise at all – a memory.

The boy held his ears so tight he could listen to his own heartbeat, almost feel the silence with which covered the world.

"_Trust me. You'll want this_." It spoke through icicles and gritted teeth, a venomous smile, and the boy felt a menthol heat biting his cheeks. Getting closer, he leaned away. The edge of the precipice feeling metal under his toes, his heels swung lightly from the verge. Falling would stop this, stop the golden eyed man with the dark so cold it seared. Falling would stop the sheer power he felt, the desire for something wrong.

But he was _scared_. So very much of stepping back, just one simple, impulsive thing. Effective in its result, and permanent. That, to Jak, was terrifying. But was he was beyond scared enough to do it.

This fear made him _angry_, like a cornered crocadog he wanted to lash out. Rip and tear and cause pain. To this person, or maybe people. There couldn't be more than two. Though jumping would hurt them more than he ever could with his own hands. Jumping would make everything they had worked for, everything they had done to him, annulled. He could jump to the abyss below, the result would be instant and bloody. He'd die. Jak would die.

Jak fell to his knees, suddenly, in the real world and in his mind. Forward, away from the cliff. _Onto the floor in this dark room. _Away from ending the pain. He had, and would at least _live_ to see _another day_.

Jak removed his hands from his ears, rubbing his eyes and blinking into the burning light. Taking a sigh into the suddenly crisp and fresh air. The room had lightened confirming it was small. A bookshelf, a bucket, a shrivelled plant. Nothing like _home_. Home with its grey walls and one single bed. Then there was that machine, and that voice. And- and where was this new light coming from?

"Jak? Is that you, Chilli Pepper?"

Dazed blue eyes swivelled in the voice's direction, the voice like home, and something like the smell of sand and stone. He was reached out to by a large gloved hand.

~oOo~

"That's-" Praxis began, protecting his son at his side as Sig and Torn approached, a blonde boy held up by the shoulders. "Who is that?"

"You!" May appeared out of the door and pointed at Sig, "watch the- the rat thing. Make sure it's okay."

Once the man had removed the pressure off Jak from his shoulder and he'd began walking himself, the boy promptly passed out. He looked bad. Possibly worse than he'd ever seen him.

The silence inside was thick and Sig, being as brutally coarse as he was, was contemplating throwing his feet up onto the bench. The man never liked awkward silences, he never participated in them unless for the sake of intimidation. And according to Jak, perhaps not this new Jak, but the better-off blonde informed him it was effective. Often he thought the boy would do even Damas proud with his intimidating silence (and wondered why), if he weren't so short.

One stare he couldn't handle though, was this one. This almost judgemental creature was different to those. It had definitely seen things it its life time. Sig could only count two blinks a minute, and that, right there, was terrifying enough.

Sig had- was it? Goosebumps? That was unusual.

Yellow eyes observed and understood. "Eno." The creature muttered under its short breath.

Sig confirmed there was no-one around and turned to the ottsel. One ear still on the door.

Its eyes thinned to slits, "My name is Eno."

The wastelander slanted his expression, regarding this 'Eno' not with distaste, but knowing. It wasn't Daxter, not with those electric yellow eyes, and he'd felt it all along.

Eno held his wound strongly and pulled himself up, trotting on his hind legs to the brim of the table. His bottom lip barely subduing a wince, or a cry. Either way he was being brave, considering how big the cut would be if it were size proportional to Sig.

That, in itself as an act of bravery, was not Daxter. Not as if the other ottsel was a coward, but when he was thrown into a fight, and on the rare occasion he would actually stick around, injury was inevitable. After the blonde would make sure the offender had met its particular grizzly end, the blue eyed animal would complain for days as if he had caught his death.

"Why didn't you want the other's to know you talk?" Straight to business, Sig thought, that'll get 'im.

"Animals aren't meant to talk. At least not here." Eno shrugged, "not yet."

"Where's here."

He rubbed the back of his neck, harbouring his bad arm safely by his side. "I don't know."

That wasn't good enough for the man, but it would have to do seeing as that was probably more info anyone else could give. "My name is S-"

"Sig. I know who you are, it is only fair you know who I am too." Eno's tail gave a quick sway, "and I don't see how it can hurt." _Because he'd be- well, he'd have to __**migrate**__ in a few days._

Sig exhaled noisily. It could have been the fact that this thing - aside from the eye colour and perhaps a duller coat - was exactly like Daxter, but he trusted it.

He'd probably thought too soon as the creature winced. Black sparkles bursting in his eyes. It didn't seem to faze Eno, other than make him rub his lids a few times and blink heavily. A deep shadow obscuring the amber pigment.

"What's goin' on with you anyway?" Sig folded his arms across his chest.

Eno looked to the dark tear stains on his paws. He grimaced at the black eye-fluid. "It's the eco. It's in my blood stream." His eyes glanced from his paws and levelled on the Wastelander. Calculating again as he stared back Sig very nearly letting himself look tangled. "Creatures like me, we are kind of fragile. Not glass fragile, more like unstable. Our entire being of light and energy outside comprehension is held together with a ribbon, wishes, and good luck." He paused, holding his side a little tighter, "just imagine what would happen if you poured that liquid-destruction on a bomb."

"But you're a rat." It wasn't meant to sound that frank, but c'mon. The two looked around as Torn and May approached with a barely concious Jak scuffling between them.

Eno's deadly serious eyes studied his own body, returning to Sig a little lighter. "Yes, it _seems_ I am." He smiled.

* * *

_Ladies and gents, thank you for reading!_

_First of all, love to my pet American bunny Pr-anx. She proofed this wonderfully and brutally, though I know there is affection there. Somewhere. Maybe? Nah, she's amazing and thank you. Props, m'dear!_

_Secondly, to the reveiwers and readers. You are my favorite people ever. You know the drill: having people (that's you guys!) appreciate what I put up makes me update faster. I tip my hat to you, if I wore hats. I, uh, will clap like a seal and make unearthly whale noises every time I see I have a new reader. Oh, and give my pet Husky called Archer a pat on the head. So just know there is a fluffy white polar bear looking puppy who is loving you all just as much as I do!_

_And lastly, I'm very excited about the next few scenes... There will be twists and turns and my body doesn't even know what to do with the excitement. Where do my feels file such things? Writing is my passion and I just want to thank the people who have taken it out of their time to read, fangirl over, critic, follow, favorite and review. I cherish every single one._

_Anyways, tally-ho and tootle-pip, Hi ho Silver away!_


	7. Sage's Daughters

**Chapter Seven**  
Sage's Daughters

Reef teetered back on her chair with her toe. Studying the scattered blueprints held from the strengthening winds with shells, lurker teeth, and artefacts from the submerged precursor city. Her brother, Madge, was just like father, he would become a sage of blue eco. Some weeks her big brother would come home, hopefully bringing more remarkable junk and exciting stories. But with the amount of lurkers around lately, Reef just wished him home more often.

Preferably in one piece.

A spring creaked and uneven footsteps padded on the ceiling, wandering towards the bathroom.

Keira was awake again; she'd been amongst the living for a bit each day, long enough to use the restroom and eat and drink. She'd even come downstairs once or twice. They'd sat at the window during the storms that herald summer, going over the amazing inventions that seemingly intrigued her. Just until Reef realized what the snoring from her desk was.

"Good afternoon." A quiet voice chirped from the dreary eyed woman on the bottom of the staircase. Though she had one black shiner on her eye, the large cut had begun healing naturally. It wouldn't scar, so she could be a little thankful.

"I didn't expect to see you down here. How are you feeling?"

Keira really hated to ask for much, but; "Thirsty, hungry." She groaned slowly and sat next to the desk, "Sleepy. But I guess I'm a little better than before."

"I'll get you some water in a moment." Reef smiled patiently and made her way over to the kitchen - which in reality was a bench and some cupboards – to retrieve a bowl of fruit. "Did you have a good rest?"

Keira went with no; this was the second time she'd been in a time travel scenario and honestly they still weren't dull. Life shattering and gut reeling, yes. Dull, never.

When she had first arrived in Haven City, she didn't know anything more than whom she was. How was she to know her friends hadn't been cast in another world, time, or place? What was even worse was the biting nag they could even have been killed. The Haven Hostel had helped, and the manager had been kind too. But all Keira wanted to do was sleep, even though she was sick of it, her body craved more and more rest.

It didn't happen overnight, but she'd gotten a job at the garage and everything began changing. Erol had noticed her and she had found her own little sanctuary in the chaos. Everything was brighter. Even without the others.

Now, being returned to this world, Keira found herself yearning to be back _home_. Where were the others? Had they all been reverted after saving the last precursor egg? She didn't even get to say goodbye… Or perhaps this was some accident and – her stomach tightened at the thought – she'd have to go to the future again. The last time didn't end so well, with Jak's dark eco addiction and the metal heads.

Home should have never been Haven, home was Sandover. And if her friends were anywhere, it would be the village. If only she had a way there.

The warp gate hummed and droned beside the kitchen bench, it was activated on this end but would the Green Sages lab be on? "Reef, the warp gate, where does it lead to?"

"Everywhere that I know of. Maia's citadel, the Red Sages lab, Geyser Rock, uh, why?"

"What about Sandover?"

"That warp gate hasn't been open for years now, the travellers all come with stories that it's broken. Shattered. I don't' understand why that corrupt sage they have won't just get it fixed. Ooh, if I ever meet him I'll give him a piece of my mind." Reef punched her palm and squished her knuckles until she heard at least one pop for good measure.

Keira squinted in thought. "Who is the green sage now?"

"I dunno, some loser for sure. I think it's that Maia's brother, she'd really nice. Gol on the other hand, he plays with eco and he has all these stupid ideas-" Reef looked to Keira who'd slowly zoned out, thinking another one of her crashes were due any second. "Hello? Are you awake in there?"

Her guest's eyes may have been tired before, but they sure lit up when she detected the A-grav zoomer prototype on the warp pad. Which made Reef unnecessarily proud.

"Oh! Do you like it?"

"Like it? I love it!" Keira crooked her head and spun on her chair, "did you build this?"

"Yes," she stated proudly, "daddy says technology runs in our family."

"I'm a mechanic by trade, I work on these where I'm from."

The older woman gave a pretentious smirk, "I highly doubt that. This is the first one ever, you see I invented this baby, though it's not done yet. If only I could get the heat shield to operate better, there seems to be something-"

"Twenty power cells and it should be right as rain. Unless it's a cooling problem, then the power cells won't do anything to help. Do you mind?"

Keira walked to the bonnet and Reef gestured an okay to go ahead. After closer inspection she wiped her hands on her pants and stood back. There were some differences in the design, hers being more primitive than the one she had invented. The good news was that it worked, everything had been installed correctly and Reef sure did have a good hand in mechanics. The bad news was it wouldn't carry them both without some alterations.

"Well it's not a cooling problem, I think it needs some updated equipment, but just in case, I'd say you will need to release some air balloons. Especially if you are going across fire canyon."

"Fascinating." Reef pulled her mouth shut, "how did you know that's where I was heading?"

"Why else would you need a zoomer?"

The older of the two looked over this excited young woman and let herself smile, "You seem to be feeling better."

"I feel more at home with some machinery to talk about." One thing was certain in this time travel business, it would never happen overnight, but things would always get brighter.

"You really do work on these where you're from, don't you?" Reef levelled her eyebrows, face a perfect picture of seriousness.

"You wouldn't believe where I'm from."

"Try me, what could I possibly not believe?"

Keira couldn't see the point in lying, it wasn't like she'd be around long enough for anyone to really matter. Especially not the apparent Blue Sages daughter, they'd never met in her previous life in Sandover and she'd only had occasionally met the Blue Sage in gatherings her father attended.

"It's called Haven City."

"Haven?" It sounded like a nice place, but the way it was said provoked doubt- Reef had to confirm.

"It may be the name but it's not at all the nature. Haven is dirty and broken, full of everything bad, run by worse." Keira took in her confidants dejected look of protest. "It's not here yet, and I doubt you will ever get to see it. I hope you never have to see it. Honestly, it's in this worlds future. It's how this world ends, and sure it's better after Kor's fall but it's not perfect." It was so far from perfect that it hurt, because it had changed so much and been corrupted from the wonderful place she knew it used to be. And the pain felt almost lethal because the world ahead is nothing like home. "It is nothing like here… Like it once was."

Reef seemed to digest the information as if fitting together a puzzle made from circles and squares, "You're really weird."

"Thanks," after all that, Keira had to admit it was the response she was most happy with. She'd hate to have to go deeper into this time stuff. The blue sage's daughter sat down at her study desk and Keira leaned beside her.

"I've never been to the beach. We should go together. You know, as soon as we get this damn Zoomer working." She threw a spanner to her new friend, blue eyes smiling into green. "You say you're good with mechanics, why are you still leaning around? You're good at heavy lifting right?"

Keira punched her new friends arm playfully and poked at her bicep muscle, not a very impressive thing and quite dainty, but you know the saying about big things. Daxter used to pretty much live by that, sadly even before ottsel-dom. "I can hold my own."

Reef laughed quickly, interrupted by the communicator blinking from its place - goodness knows why – propping up her father's telescope and she hit receive.

_"Misty Island to mainland, come in. Misty Island to mainland. Does anyone hear me?"_

~oOo~

Jak stared fixedly at his palms and answered in short hums. They'd been interrogating him since he awoke and he was sure in saying he wasn't a fan of this man in the red. Torn, that's what Sig had said. And the girl was Maybel. Jak liked Sig, he stood up against Torn when he got too big for his shoes. Sometimes he did need reminding that they were questioning a boy, not a prisoner from war.

Or so it appeared.

"What's your name, _kid_?"

"Torn." Sig warned.

"What is your name?" This time Torn used a surprisingly kinder voice. Still not a very good one. "Does this kid even talk?"

Sig cleared his throat into his knuckle and noticed a slight ear twitch from the ex-Guard. Silence loomed as Torn regarded the big man, ears tensed back and tattoos matted in a developing grimace.

"Golden boy here's name is Jak." Sig said, "and if I was you, I'd be nicer."

Torn snorted, rubbed a small circle on his temple and looked disbelievingly at the blonde _kid_.

"You must have a good health plan, Inky."

Jak glanced up through his eyebrows, he didn't smile, but his eyes shone a 'thanks'. At least Sig thought it was, the kid was angry and it was clear Torn was pushing buttons he really should have been leaving well alone.

Sig leaned to look out the window at the orange fur ball spread out over a comfortable looking patch of grass. May had cautiously taken Eno outside and placed him down before departing for the Mayor's house.

"Jak… Jak?" Torn looked to Sig for confirmation, given in the form of a sarcastic thumbs-up. "How can we trust you?"

It was obvious why he wasn't interrogating Sig, instead targeting the youth, thinking the youth be less likely to claim his face in retaliation. That was mistake number: one, and Jak could feel eco crackling behind his teeth and a white wash of energy blanching his cheeks.

Mistake number two was the sharp nudge in the chest. The spot burned for a few seconds after, heat rushing under his skin as his breaths quickened. Something was about to happen sending sickening electric jabs into his gut. "That man seemed to think he'd seen monster then we go to investigate and find you. Funny how that worked out isn't it?"

Jak looked from his hands into Torn's face who stared right back. And that just pissed him off more. His hands clenched slowly, the pain of black knives digging into his palm.

Mistake number three: "What, is he a mute or someth-" The air shifted suddenly as Torn's voice was crushed. A hand – surprisingly warm for its grey colour – twisted him by this throat until his back slammed the table, splintering on impact.

"_Don't._" Jak's voice was a gravelly hiss. So, not a mute.

Sig watched on as Torn scowled up. The guard's eyes wavering and watery from pain, but still deciding on fight back. He knew he should help the man, but he tried to warn him. He had, right?

"Hey, Golden Boy." Though his once yellow hair was oddly streaked white, Sig knew he was still 'Golden Boy' in there somewhere.

Jak pressed down just a little harder, no longer than a second before Torn's eye began to vacate and roll back.

"Hey!" Sig was more demanding now. His voice boomed over the shallow crackling growl of dark. Eno poked his head around the corner to inspect the situation. That was it, the one thing that could calm the dark rampage down. "Don't make me get Daxter in here."

Black eyes slanted in his direction, the growl deepening before he used his entire weight to push himself off. "Who the fuck is Daxter?"

Torn collapsed limply to the ground. Only unconscious, at least he was still breathing.

Sig paused. _Who is-? Hang on_. "What?"

Blue started to regain control of the damage the dark had done and Jak slouched, almost drained from whatever battle he had just won internally. He regarded the man on the floor and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Sorry." Wounded pride, yes, but sorry? Not really.

Sig stared, obviously for one second too long before the kid seethed his way out of the room towards a grassy point up the path. Eno ducking his head out the way, exchanging a quick unsure glance with Jak.

The ottsel crawled his way inside and to the man's leg, propping himself up on his haunches. His gaze between the two. "Everything is so wrong."

Sig leaned back and scraped down the wall; hooking Eno under an arm gently to sit on his cocked knee. The animal smiled with the singular blue eye and crouched down on his hind legs, watching the crimson garbed man slowly regain consciousness, wide eyed.

Before, the kid had been one weasel away from tearing the very earth to shreds. What would happen if that one reason suddenly vanished? He didn't know and he would try his best to never find out.

Sig shivered and looked over to Torn, "Yeah, he does that."

* * *

_Well hello again,_

_So yeah, I know, I promised Tuesday and to be fair it is Tuesday… Just the wrong one! Sorry for the lack in updates, I've been writing random glimpses for A Gentle Hero and the following chapter in SF, just trying to get the detail to coincide. It's been fun though. _

_Darkecofreak: Hiya, nice to get back to you personally! No, I'm not putting my fics on Dev, it's for my art only. Speaking of which, there is one up now and I'm working on some concepts for Jak is a Crocadog and SF! Looking forward!  
Also, thank you for your reviews, you're are wonderful and I dedicate the new chapter of A Gentle Hero to you. _

_Thank you to all who have reviewed and favourited and followed as always, you know I love you. _

_If you want to check out my dev art, it is sunnyhomes13. Now and officially with my first piece. Even if it is only one thing… SO FAR! There will be more!_

_Enjoy! _


	8. Red, and Orange Lightning

**Chapter Eight  
**Red, and Orange Lightning

Daxter ran his finger's gently through the fur behind his ear, a painful bump soon letting its presence known. "Ah!"

Ashelin had hit him pretty hard, considering abuse against animals was generally frowned upon. Still to be fair, he was very good at getting into shenanigans with the ladies. And Ashe was a Krimson Guard which usually came before: searing hot, bad to the bone, and the temper of a tazered lurker.

_Rawr!_

Daxter blinked the sand from his eyes and looked down from his position on his stomach, realizing just how dirty the floor of the Naughty Ottsel really was. He should tell Ashelin to get a broom and start sweeping. That would go down well.

The ottsel rolled onto his backside and raised a set of clawed toes to scratch behind his good ear, only for a shooting pain to strike his hip and tendon. Since when did animals have to worry about flexibility?

He settled for a quick scratch of his backside (_damn fleas_), reminisced pants, and finally took in his surroundings.

At first Daxter thought Ashelin had knocked him into another world, because one minute he'd been bar keeping at the Naughty Ottsel and the next he was face down in white sand that smelled like dark eco and ash.

Then he considered the possibility this was some kind of prank, and that he'd have to find Jak and put chilli powder in his undies or something.

And thirdly; this thought sparked by that dock over there, the blue-ocean-made-grey by oxygenated dark eco gasses, and the faint orbiting precursor metal on the mainland; Daxter thought maybe he'd died.

His mouth went dry, there was no way he was here. No way was he looking at Samos' hut from the shore of Misty Island. He'd come to terms with the fact this home he'd spent many an hour cleaning would forever be a ramshackle house, full of nothing but rot and waning memories. Daxter would never show it, but he was sad at the Dead Town Sacred Site. Sad that every time he'd spent, every memory he'd logged now – or rather formerly – was too far away. They could make no more.

Paws shaking, he stood upright. He would have paced but his legs threatened to give way at any second. So he crouched on his haunches in the sand, hoping to everything he had ever owned. Wishing on every memory that he was actually back home. He and Jak. Jak always wanted to see Sandover again. And after everything they had been through, after two years, the dark eco, the metal heads; it was a slim chance, but maybe they had been granted something. A thank you from the precursors.

And he was silently thanking them back.

A whistling 'tink' ricocheted off precursor metal, making Daxter's head whip around. Catching his balance quickly, he jumped to his feet and scrambled up the rock steps. Those were red eco charges, and the only one's aside from Jak who used those were Krimson Guards.

Why were Krimson Guards on Misty Island?

~oOo~

"Where the fuck am I?" The woman's voice was a snarl as she inspected the bleeding animal under her boot. Its burgundy fur was stained with red and the two clean holes through its side sizzled with red sparks, colours dying as the eco charges melted and evaporated.

Removing her foot roughly she squinted into the milky air, making out high arches of pearly rocks, dulled orange metal, and cliffs marking an obvious path. The woman glanced around, seeing no other alternative she pressed on.

Confusion slowly became fear as she learned the pearly arches were in reality bones of enormous animals, and the liquid looking fog bellow swallowed up unfortunate creatures she'd encountered. She had never seen this place before, that was for certain.

It wasn't long before she could see a beach in the distance from her perch atop a large skull. She slid down a cheekbone onto the ashen ground below to see… A man?

_And…_ She brandished her gun again. _You can't be serious?_

Blue eyes swivelled in her direction, smiling widely which could have definitely been classed as creepy. Especially in his attire, or lack thereof.

"Ashelin!" The man yelled.

~oOo~

At first Daxter couldn't believe his eyes, but this was a good thing. Ashelin was here too, which meant he wasn't dead, and he wasn't being tricked, and he certainly was in the past. He was home!

Ashelin remained wary, cocking back the hammer on her pistol. "Who the hell are you?"

Daxter held up his hands, "Hey, hey, Ashe, it's me! Daxter."

"I don't know you," She – apparently Ashelin – took a step forward, towards this man with the few too many freckles and the most ridiculous overbite she'd ever seen in her life. "And I don't think it's possible to forget a face like yours, Freckles."

"We're friends Ashe, what are you doing?" Daxter looked worriedly at the gun, "Hang on, freckles? What?"

"Let me get something straight here, Daxter." Ashelin decided this ditzy boy wasn't a threat and shoved her gun in its holster. She couldn't remember much, but she was sure she'd never seen much weirder than a naked redhead on an island filled with gigantic skeletons. "My name is Ashelin, you're Daxter, we're friends even though we've never met before, you and I are on a deserted island… And you're naked." Ashelin couldn't contain her smirk.

Daxter glanced down at his waist, firstly notified that he was completely naked. And secondly that it was a human body under his gloriously blushing mug.

"I-" He started, feeling a numbness strike his brain dead.

"Oh, look at that! You're also a chameleon. Your hair matches your face."

Daxter's hands cupped his crotch, "I- I'm human again."

"Sorry, what?"

"I'm human? I'm furless, and I have privates, and butt cheeks I can wear-" Daxter stopped and inspected his tail-less waist to be doubly sure, "I can wear pants again!"

Ashelin watched as Dax's face went from cherry to ghost and rolled her eyes. "Take one step towards me and you'll be dead before you can start enjoying 'having privates' again."

Daxter raised his hands in surrender and watched Ashelin pass slowly, realizing his mistake he covered himself again. "Aren't you going to help me, I can't stay naked?"

"You'll live, just shut up. I am so sick of your voice." Ashelin pulled out her communicator and Daxter snatched it away with a free hand, after a quick glare she leaned against a rock.

"That's not going to work, we're miles away from anyone."

"Just try it."

"It's not going to-"

"Fucking just try the damn thing before I shove it up your-"

Daxter turned and started his way down the stairs to the jetty, hoping for better reception the closer he got to the mainland. "Misty Island to mainland, come in. Misty Island to mainland. Does anyone hear me?"

Static crackled inside the speaker, and clicked off to silence.

"I told you."

Ashelin sighed exaggeratedly and rubbed her eyebrow, looking out between her finger and thumb to the most annoying person she'd ever met. The only person she'd ever met. "Well this place isn't getting any more interesting, I say we start swimming."

"There's a lurker shark."

"I have no idea what you're saying to me right now, Orange."

"Oh yeah, act all big and brave coz you're a KG, he's the biggest nastiest guy you'll ever meet and I'm pretty sure even Miss Hard-as-nails wouldn't wanna mess with him." Daxter sat on the jetty with his hands in his lap, hearing a sound like material ripping from behind.

Ashelin dropped a few tatters of her sleeves over his shoulder, "Here. It'll look like a diaper, but it'll stop it getting bitten off if we have to swim."

Daxter looked up and grinned, "Thanks, Red."

"Don't mention it. Seriously, don't."

She kicked a loose plank of wood and turned her back, watching the communicator blink and fuzz as if it were trying to relay a message through white noise. "What the? Hey Orange, come and have a look."

Daxter adjusted his diaper and grimaced. "That's Orange Lightning, by the way."

She pointed to where the communicator lay abandoned on the jetty and crouched. "What's it doing?"

"It's getting a message, someone heard us." Daxter grabbed her shoulder pad, "Do you have anything else, anything at all. Precursor items, comm's?"

Ashelin, without questioning his methods, checked her pockets. Pulling out a round device with a glowing yellow light, due to the warmth of skin on Ashelin's hand it started bleeping quietly. "How about a beacon?"

Daxter smiled and looked towards the shore.

Precursor artefacts are older than anyone knew, even old Bean Breath Hagai used to wonder how precursors came to be. And that was saying something because he was older than dirt! Modern technology would fail, but someone in the village would receive their beacon, or at least someone heard their message.

One thing was for sure, they were getting off this island before he lost his height and gained a tail all over again.

~oOo~

Eno waddled his way up to Sig's leg and leaned his shoulder against it, small pants racking his chest. "I'm getting too old for this walking thing." At only one hundred and thirty years, he sure felt older. Eco poisoning side effects, oh the joy.

Sig scoffed and looked to his communicator. Damas must have been at one important meeting to ignore even a fellow wastelander. The one that may or may not have even found his son. He brushed off the button and pressed it in for nothing, not even the blink of a red light. Then again, it could be broken. It didn't even seem to be connecting to anything.

"Stupid thing," Sig drop-kicked the precursor device into the sea, "Doesn't even work. I should have known."

Eno looked up and squared his shoulders, well, as much as an ottsel could. "The signal does have a while to travel you know."

"What do ya mean?"

"Nothing, nothing. It's just we're a while away from where you're from, bud." He couldn't give away too much, after all, he wasn't even meant to be here. Foolish, young, daring Eno. That's how he would go down in history. His three brothers would forever be shamed because he tried, and failed, to stop the dark eco. Now, the world would pay the price.

Then again, if his brothers got the damn coordinated right, everyone would have landed safely in their rightful place. No head damage; no memory loss.

He guessed he could always bring their memories back. It wouldn't be that difficult, it would weaken him and everyone would remember. The pro's outweigh the con's. So it was lucky he had tried to play hero in the end.

Eno gazed over at the grassy point by the fountain where Jak sat, legs swinging and tapping against the rock. "Jak looks sad. He's only angry until he's alone."

Sig examined the small animal for a moment; "You should go talk to him."

"Why me? He scares me." Eno was never a fan of dark eco, and this kid was full of it. Then again, so was he.

"I can just imagine you would do a better job of helping him then I would." Sig looked down into the small knowing eyes, their expression telling this animal knew a lot more than he cared to share. "Don't look at me like that, Cherry, you know what I mean."

A silence and a smile confirmed this and Eno looked out to sea, walking to where the distress beacon had been washed up in the waves. He blew the water from under the button and wiped it quickly on his leg. The thing shone red and he handed it to Sig, "You may need this, just in case you find him. Or others, they are perhaps closer than you think."

Sig took the item from his paw, noting that one by one his claws were lengthening into onyx knives. A pulsating darkness had nearly covered one eye, and the wound on his side was seeping black into the bandage. "Find who?"

Eno winked his yellow eye and began walking to Jak. "Mar, of course."

The man looked to the beacon that was flashing red and back to the ottsel. _He couldn't have possibly meant… did he?_

* * *

_As usual, a shout out to my lovely favouriters and followers! Then who can forget about the reviewers: DarkEcoFreak, Paintingwithtoes, Axalion, Duchess of Dorks, Pr-anx and Doubledamn! If I've forgotten anyone please feel free to leave a flame, I am terribly sorry and know I deserve it. _

_You are all my inspiration! I love you more than I love pizza. And I'm infatuated with pizza. Mmm. _

_I've been trying to make the chapters a bit longer as requested by the wonderful E, I'm probably doing horribly! But as we progress they will get more in them._

_So anyway, this is the chapter I've been so excited about! And the next one, oh and the next. I wish I wasn't so darn fussy, this would have been up long ago! _

_Sorry for the wait guys, she's been a tough week! But, never fear, I would never forget about my lovely readers. You're all beautiful and dedicated to in my fics with every spare second I have!_

_(Oh, deviant art has more on there now! Check it out, oh and I now officially have a Tumblr. Feel free to add me on both, I'd love to hear from you. Looking forward, old chap!)_

_Kindest regards, enjoy your time between now and the next update._

_Love, _

_Sun_


End file.
